Taytay

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

still here btw

Marvel: Knights of New York

_{Cunningham Park, Queens
Early Morning}

---

You ever think of death, like really think about it? Have you ever wondered what it's like when the glorious lady herself wraps those bony cold hands around your soul and rips it straight from you body? Don't kid yourself, it's some pretty fantasy or a euphoric trip. It's a dark abyss filled with nothing but your pain and the mistakes you made in life, coming back from the dead was no pretty trip either. Imagine someone simultaneously ripping all the nails from each of your toes and fingers with a pair of pliers, if you have ever wondered why people usually gasp when they "wake up" now you know. Even after experiencing both life death and then life again, most would think I might get out of this business of killing but it keeps calling me back. That's how I ended up in this park early in the crisp morning freezing my ass off waiting for my contact Mrs.Jackson to arrive and pay me my money. See I just "handled" a little finance problem her group was having and they are paying me by the head so I made sure deliver a lot of them.

Her "accounting firm" is known as a upstanding business that not only helps you settle your books, but they also make small loans to the right people. In actuality they some loan sharks, but instead of loaning to some helpless mother trying to take care of three little kids and put a fourth through college by herself, they loan to the local gangs and other crime oriented groups throughout the borough of Queens. From what I could dig up on the little group they started a little over a year ago, and have become quite popular, as long as you pay your debts back. Mrs. Jackson hired me not knowing my real identity, most people still think I'm dead, that Bullseye got me and my body is rotting in some gutter or that he uses my head for target practice (the rumors I have head since I got back). This was my first real job since returning to the city a few months ago, and boy was it exciting. I felt like a kid who finally got off the bench after a big injury, I was amazing (if I do say so myself), my kills clean, no injuries and I got away before the cops arrived. It was like night and day compared to my last job (which ended in my death), and now I waited to report to my boss.

They wanted me to take care of a group of thugs who were in deep with the firm, over 400k and counting. The poor souls wanted to start a drug operation and need some buying money, but instead of starting small they went big with no guarantee for income and ended up owing money to the wrong people. Funny thing is, if I did not take care of them someone else would have; Maggia, Triads, Kingpin, none of the big boys like competition, especially little kids who try to sit at the adult table. So maybe those guys should be glad I took them out quick and quietly, because I can make a list of others would have made an example out of them. The job was easy enough, it's not like they had top of the line security or paid the hand to protect them and all 10 of them were in some shabby condo trying to hide out.

It’s over now and that means it’s time to collect. Now don’t get me wrong I love what I do, killing is my career and I take pride in it, but I did not come back to New York to stay. I came back to make things right with Matt and then leave after. If memory serves me correctly, he never saw me wake from my death and I got up long after he had been taken away. He deserved to know that I was alive and well, would Matthew be happy that I am back in the game...no. But he knows me and my nature, plus with the death of the spider things have gotten lively in this shitty city again. If crime here was a bitch then we assassins would be her fangs, and she has been using us on a regular since his death. That’s how I got sucked back in, it started with a simple kill, then a few “simple” kills, and now I am a hire on again. With the return of the “red one”, I am sure news has reached my former employer and his top assassin, along with others who might seek out my employment (if they can find me).

As I waited and thought about my predicament, the air shifted and that caused me to tune back into my surroundings. There was an elderly woman wearing a pants suit walking towards me, she was carrying beat up brown suitcase and a cup of coffee. As she stat down, I got a closer look and noticed her light blue scarf and latch-back earrings. She had a worn wrinkly face with grey hair to match, she had an air of wisdom around her but it looked like her and time have been in the ring together for a long time and time was winning. I was in a black trench coat, under was a black suit I had made a while back, durable, doesn’t cut easy, and breathes like egyptian silk. I don’t think I will be dawning the red silk just yet, to many memories and not enough counseling. Aside from my sai, I had a cup of now warm coffee in my hand as she sat down. She looked straight ahead and used her leg to slowly scoot the case until it touched my uncrossed leg.

“So you’re her, Elektra. Nice job on this, those pest have been a problem for months. In the case you will find another job for you, if you are interested of course, and like this time payment will follow after its completed.” She said in her British aged voice, without even looking at her I know she had some sort of satisfactory smirk on her face.

“I’ll see what the job is and get back to you, and I hope that is all there, considering your profession.” I said back to her.

“Yes, we accountant's can count, I will be on my way. I’ll contact if anything changes with the targets.” With that she was off the bench fixing her scarf and headed back out into the world.

Oh how I would miss her accent, but alas with SHIELD running around it was best to keep these meeting short. I am sure that they knew I was back in town, but since I was not enough of problem then they let me be, or I hope so, there is only one woman who they would send to take me down and I do not need that drama right now. I set my coffee on the bench grabbed the case and opened it up in my lap. The money was laid out perfectly in the bottom half, while a manila envelope and a small white envelope sat in a zipper with a flip phone on the top half. Everything was in order except the white envelope, and I know there was some puzzled expression on my face right now. When I open it and read the letter I laughed, I laughed like the best joke in the world had been whispered in my ear. I put everything back in my case and picked it up with my coffee and walked in the opposite direction of Mrs.Jackson.

Life has a funny way of shitting on you at the worst times, but what can you do? Nothing but roll with it and make sure your ass comes out clean in the end.

The Letter

"Nice to see you E."
-F

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Milo Gaspard

_{{ "Espérons qu'ils me croient." }}
Put Me Thru || Diddy Bop || Tous Les Mêmes

---

| {Full Name} |

Milo Aubert Gaspard

| {Nickname} |

Enoch

| {Date of Birth} |

Octoer 31, 1927

| {Age} |

90 (Was turned at 17)

| {Gender} |

Male

| {Sexuality} |

Homosexual

| {Relationship Status} |

Single

| {Role} |

Vampire

| {Occupation} |

Works at the French themed cafe/book store called "Bonnes Idées".

| {Face Claim} |

Alexander Ferrario

| {Dialogue Color} |

Aquamarine (7FFFD4)

---

| {Appearance} |

Milo was frozen in time at his 17 year old scrawny school boy phase and has remained the same ever since. He stands at 5’9” and weighs in around 117 pounds. He has brown hair and brown eyes, these feature along with his wide baby face help to portray the image of innocents and youth. He could never get away with having a fake, and would most likely be the one to get pulled over for looking to young while driving. Along with his height, Milo has a small frame and thin build, not really packing much on the muscle side and leaning more towards skin and bones. Milo tends to keep up with the times when it comes down to clothing, he likes to wear the latest clothes by whatever company while dressing comfortably and affordably. Throughout the years he has succeeded at dressing like some late high school early college student, while at the same times sometimes adding in his own flare. Milo always felt that he was to young to get tattoos and piercings (plus his father would have not allowed him to get them anyways). He is always changing, trying to keep up with the latest styles while staying true to himself.

| {Habits & Quirks} |

💥Milo has a habit to flick his zippo lighter back and forth, on and off, not really lighting anything just fidgeting with it. He carries the lighter with him wherever he goes and mostly plays with it when he is bored or is trying to think about something. The same can be said for his cross, he will rub it and fidget with it.
💥Milo has a way to show others he is uncomfortable, when he has been caught red handed, and when he is just playing awkward, he attempts to flash those puppy dog eyes and scratches his head. He also does this during those times when at a loss for words, those times when he does not know how to deal with a situation or a certain person, and even whens someone who has more authority then him comes into his space.
💥Milo will run his hands though his hair after a work out, doing sports, a long run, over all her does this to calm himself. When he leaves a movie he thought was scary, or after he gets caught up in a bad situation but got away, he can be seen running his hands through his hair. He does this as a way to relive stress and calm his beating heart.

| {Hobbies} |

🃏Gambling People out their money
🃏Reading
🃏Writing
🃏Cooking
🃏Feeding
🃏Setting Things on fire

| {Likes} |

🎲Trying New things
🎲Traveling
🎲History
🎲The Outdoors
🎲Innocence
🎲Animals (especially cats)
🎲Long Walks at night
🎲Gambling Games (cards, dice, roulette, pool, mahjong etc.)
🎲The evolution of things (especially music and cars)

| {Dislikes} |

🀄Older Vampires
🀄Aggressive People
🀄Magic (He was raised Catholic)
🀄Fighting
🀄Wars, guns, violence
🀄Snails
🀄Solider, and military in general
🀄Hunters
🀄Older Men
🀄Religion (Catholicism and Christianity)

| {Fears} |

🎱Milo fears death. His fear of death originates from his own "death". The moments leading up to him dying were the worst of his life, and it scared the life out him. That fear forever stuck to Milo and never left him, it drives his fight or flight, it helps him make important decisions, all the while keeping him up at night.
🎱The World War Era is a harsh memory on Milo's mental. He has dealt with much of WWII and the remnants of WWI, so any museums, items and people (vampire or witches, surviving humans?), cause him to clam up with fear as he relives those memories.
🎱Milo is afraid of magic, but only because he does not understand it. He was raised as a catholic, so aside from dealing with his own sexuality, magic came as a shock and then turned fear. There was no explanation, he was only ever told that "its the way things work" and this caused him to be turned off to the subject. Even his creation is a frightful thing to talk about, his lack of understanding produced fear for things that were not explained by the bible.

| {Secrets} |

🎰Milo's brother lived on after the war and his family grew to be strong and prosperous, not only in America but in France as well. To pay respects to his family and make up for letting his father die, every time some one dies in his "family" he makes sure to bury them and pay for all the expenses. He also tries to be there for all the births, graduations, birthdays, and major events in a person's life. Of course he is not resourceful enough to be able to go all the time, but for years within the Gaspard (human) line there has been tales that if the ghost of Milo appears at any point in your life then you are blessed. He has become some sort of saint/angle to his brothers family and wants to continue this tradition of his until the day he dies.
🎰No one knows about the man buried under the Yule Tree. The Yule Tree on the outskirts of town that is surrounded by a sea of yellow and red wildflowers, has a small patch of purple tulips. 20 feet under this small patch of tulips is the Elder Vampire Mathias, he was the "father" of Milo, and asked Milo to bury him under a Yule Tree so he could rest peacefully for the next century. Taking deep slumbers is a dangerous thing for vampires to do and without proper preparation, few survive the sleep and end up dying. Milo did not know what steps his second father took to prepare so he panicked, asked around, found out about a Yule Tree and buried him under one, hoping that he could fulfill the man's final wishes.

| {Abilities} |

🎯Vampiric Physiology: Milo has the "normal" vampire enhanced strength, speed, sight, smell, hearing, etc.
🎯Compulsion: Milo has the vampiric ability to compel others, and can alter emotions of others.
🎯Edge weapon expert: Milo learned earlier on in his life how to handle a sword quiet well (his father was a man of the old ways) and also is good with knives and throwing edged weapons.
🎯Runner: Milo is a good runner, and has been his whole life. He was good at track in school and could out run most in his class. When he became a vampire his speed was top notch, werewolves and vampires will have a hard time catching him once his feet hit the ground and his legs start going.

| {Limitations} |

🎮Sunlight, stakes, vervain: All of the normal vampire weaknesses.
🎮Head Trauma: For some reason Milo cannot take major head trauma. When he is dealt a strong enough blow to the head by either enhanced strength or blunt object he is dazed, might get a nose bleed and has a slow recovery.

---

| {Personality} |

♠ Youthful ♠ Unnerved ♠ Insouciant ♠ Intuitive ♠

Milo is a young lad at heart. He will be forever 17 and acts like it, despite being 90 years old and only getting older. His youthful attitude and young disposition will anger most older vampires because they know he is not some new born. Even though he is not fresh out and is still considered young, Milo still acts although he is a 17 bear old boy running the track and playing catch with his friends. He does this as a way to not have to face the fact that he has a long time to live, this fact alone scares him. He never had a chance to find out who he is and what he likes, where he stands in a crowd and how to get the girl (guy), due to the war and his maker Milo missed out on many things. In his mind, he is gonna be stuck looking that young for a while so might as well act the part, plus no one would believe a 17 speaking like someone who has seen the horrors he has. Instead its easier for everyone involved (himself included) if he just acts his role and plays the part he was stuck with. Behind closed doors, he can be seen betraying his role and those eyes full of life and youth are replaced with a dull stress, one so heavy if it would up to world to carry, the world would break. When he is alone or even sometimes when he is reminded of the past his whole demeanor changes and a trained eye will pick up on his true self, while one not so keen to these things will only see him staring off into space. The reasons he chooses youth instead of his true self is because of all the pain that he really carries and the constant reminders that float within him attacking on a daily. Its one reason games are his favorite pastime, games are innocent, they are childish, and they take him back to times of fun and joy.

All his life there has always been a stable man who acted as a father figure, some male role model who lead him down the right path, someone Milo could admire. When he was a child it was his grandfather and uncle, when he was a pre-teen it was his older brother, and when he was growing into adulthood it was his father. After he was turned Milo me the first man who had ruined his image of the older male, his maker had utterly ruined his entire firs 17 years by acting the way he had, the man did not fit into cookie cuter outline Milo had created about older males. This changed everything he ever knew, it showed him the darker side of the world and what really lurks behind the face of men with more power. This planted a seed of doubt in him, everything Milo had ever seen or known, everything he had ever done or any action he had ever made was now in question. He did not want to face the fact that he could have been led astray by evil men wear sheep's clothing, this caused him to second guess everything he did (even to the present day). The clothes he wears, how he responds, who he talks to, the friends he makes, Milo called his entire character into question and drowned it in a pool of insecurity. His rebirth brought doubts with it, and being immortal has only given him more time to think about what he might be doing wrong.

For all his mental troubles and his physical pain through out his life, Milo has walked away with a particular attitude on most situations. He learned early on what his favorite author meant by "Vampires do not hold grudges, we harbor them." In other words he honestly believes when life gives you lemons you have to make lemonade, and not really worry about anything else. There is no point in trying to control things that you can't, or trying to deal with people who don't want to be bothered. Milo thinks that life should be taken a day at a time and worrying about such things like the future and trying to make sure everything is done a certain way, at a certain time, waste the time you are given each day. He believes that think like that and living in such a constant state of preparation is why people have regrets when they die. Instead he chooses to live life like he has nothing to lose, and not be sorry for it. Granted he may be held back by his past at times but that is his struggle in life, getting over his problems and instead using them to make himself better as a whole instead of letting them crush his resolve and make him weak. He tries to let things roll of his back like water off a duck, making sure to only care for truly life threatening instances. All in all he can be quiet indifferent about most people (except his family and maker) and tries not to care about other people's situations or events.

Milo can act all he wants, but his age shows in how he responds to certain things. He is seen as highly intuitive and wise. Milo can easily see through people facades and tear down the walls they put up. It is easy for him because of two things: those are teenage tactics people use in everyday life and Milo will forever be a teenager so things like that don't get past him that easily, the second is that he is the master of putting up walls and wear mask. His "father" taught him that the life of a vampire should be lived as if it were a play, "We have one script but many costume changes and mask we must wear, it is up to us how we act in these costumes. But you must never forget you only get one script." The man taught him that no matter how many changes people make they still only have one script, even vampires, and showed him how to see past these walls and at the true character of a person. If one were to have watched Milo's life they would tell you not to lie to him for he would know, don't hold your feelings back because he can see them, and don't be afraid to cry because h knows you need it. Reading in between the lines is easy to Milo and seeing in between people is even easier, he is rarely surprised by people's actions, and it takes a true wildcard to throw him off his horse. Most things coming from his elders surprise him, and add further to his knowledge of the living person and their acts.

| {Place of Origin} |

Angiens, France

| {Background} |

Please Enjoy!

"Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see."
-Neil Postman

The life of a child is one filled with happiness, joy, fun times that outweigh the bad, and its supposed to be led down the right path by strong figures. Milo Gaspard was born in 1927 on October 31st, he is the youngest of two boys and has always been a sweet, fun loving child. His parents where Hilda and Jean Gaspard, Hilda was a German woman with strong values but a soft heart, she baked the best sweets in the neighborhood and loved both her sons from the bottom of her heart. She married Jean because of an agreement made by their parents a long time ago, but did not regret it. In Jean's youth he was a jock; sports, ladies man, not to well in school, he embodied all the qualities of the word but was a romantic and quick to fall in and out of love. When they became of age (18) their parents reviled their arranged marriage, and set them up for life. The Gaspard family is know for making shoes by hand in France, and Jean inherited this business after he got married. For years they lived happily, working on the shoe business, hosting parties, living out their youth as a married couple until WWI happened. It was a bad time to get drafted to the French military, Hilda was pregnant, Jean was worrying who would run the place while he was gone, and what about their son coming into this world. The time of the first world war was brutal and Milo's older brother was born into it, of course he would not remember them going from home to home trying to hide from the Germans, he would not remember the smell of burning bodies and gunpowder in the morning, he would not remember the things his mother had to do to keep them safe, Mark (the older brother) was nothing but a baby. After the war was over Jean returned not a young boy, but a hardened man with one less arm. He was suffering form a mental sickness and had remarried Cointreau, years after he would fall deeper into his own word of inhibitions and soon they gave birth to Milo 1927.

While his father was off trying to find his next drink and his mother was to busy running the shoes company (attempting to piece back together what they had left after the war), Milo was left to be raised by his grandparents. Milo grew up under the warm hand of his grandfather as they traveled around France. He learned about the good things of the world and made many friends on his trip. He grew into a fine young teen, ran track, had good grades, great friends and overall was living life to the fullest. Milo was the embodiment of youth at the age of 12, that is until his grandfather died. Milo cried for three days until his mother came to pick him up and take him back home, he did not want to leave the old man but had no choice. When arrived at his original home, Milo was met with the sight of his drunken father lounging on the couch and his brother trying to do work in the kitchen. The boy was not a fool he could tell the situation was shit but instead decided to work with what he had, from the next day on Milo acted as a shining beacon for his small little family. No matter the struggle they faced or the adversity they had to climb over, Milo was a bright child who inspired those around him. His light even reached Jean and pulled the man out of drunken world.

It was after his father went on a sober streak that Milo and him grew close, they were glued at the hip and did almost everything together. When Milo was 14 their house was divided; his brother and mother on one side, and Milo and his father on the other side. The children each had one parent each and did not receive much from the other. Milo's father taught him many things he learned himself in the war, all Jean wanted was to make sure his son could survive out there on is own and defend himself if the time called for it. He is also the man who instill the catholic teachings in Milo, hooking him on the promise of heave, and the threat of hell, showing him the "truth" of our lord and savior and of the fallen prince. Milo fell in love with these teachings and made it a bigger part of his life, all the while the threat of war looms in the background. This reignited the spark of anger and malice in his home, the two sides of the house hold argued day after day trying to decided if they should leave to America now or wait until the war blew over.

Hilda wanted to leave an never look back, while Jean was proud of the French military he once fought for, the military he gave his arm to, and trusted that they would be protected. After the war began a bomb was lit to blow in the house hold, everyone was walking on egg shells making sure to not step on any land mines, their little home had been turned into a battle field and Milo could feel all the tension. May 10, 1940 marked the explosion of said bomb, allies where losing battles left and right and the Germans where invading France. Hilda had enough, packed up half the house and took Mark with her as she left, swearing never to return to the two fools if they did survive the wars. Milo trusted his father, and they prayed together every day, they prayed as the Germans bombarded their town and raided the nearby homes, they prayed as the Nazis marched down he streets shouting their propaganda for any who might be left, they prayed that their house would be unnoticed, and left alone. To them it seemed that their prayers had been answered, and during the middle of the war both men had to work together to live. Milo would handle making runs and getting food while Jean would take care of the home and ensure that they were as safe as they could be. For a time it worked, until the food ran out, until the Germans stated to kill the reaming French, until the prayers no longer worked. Milo started to grow resentful towards his father, the man would take bigger portions of what little food he could find, he would never leave the house to find food, and even if Milo go caught and had to fight his way out, Jean only cared that he brought back a meal. When Milo couldn't he would beat the boy senseless and then throw him back out into the wild land of stray bullets and falling missiles until he found something. But Milo still loved his dad and trusted his words, so he persevered through it and made sure to "do his part."

---

“Greater is he who is in me, than he who is in the world.”
-1 John 4:4

Flick….Flick….

The darkness was illuminated by the sudden spark of orange and red hues that coalesced around the tip of the zippo lighter in Desmond’s hands. A single bent cigarette hung from his mouth stained with the crimson color of blood. The flame died away as quickly as it was born, cloaking the vampire once again in his hidden environment. It was the resolution of World War II, the climax was over and now the falling action was taking place. The Battle of Normandy or soon to be known as D Day was the day that would live in infamy. The beaches were torn asunder and ravished in the piles of bodies and intestines, blurred vision, and broken sound was shrouded by the veil of enemy gunfire and explosions. It was a gruesome scene and men died by the hundreds with each docking boat. It was a miracle that the allied forces were able to storm the beach despite their loss of life. The carnage and entrails painted a road outlining where the flow of battle was directed, except there was something oddly off about the road pathed with good intentions. Germany’s armies were being pummeled into submission, platoon by platoon there forces were diminishing and the surrender would soon come to fruition.

Elsewhere allied forces were marching down whilst suckling on the taste of victory despite their enormous loss in casualties. The war would officially end, but the war was just beginning somewhere else. Back to the road that had forked off from the main squadron and bandolier of soldiers. The reminiscent hues of fire were now dancing on the withered ash of the pale white stick in Desmond’s mouth, his fingers glazed in an ichor of blood. Desmond walked out of the darkness that engulfed him before, the nonexistent door adjacent to broken hinges. The sunlight kissed his skin and illuminated his pale translucent flesh while red painted his uniform in a cascading splatter. A body dragged beside him, limp, with the color of axis powers draped on his tattered body. Desmond took one last drag from the ailing stick and flicked it away. Suddenly a cacophony of sound erupted a few yards away from him with a dazzling theatre of explosions. A smirk was caught in the mouth of the wolf excited for his next dish, Desmond was a glutton there was no mistaking it. He had paid for his sins handsomely before, there was no salvation for a soul like his.

Desmond made his way casually to the house flicking up his lighter then clapping it back shut. The lighter was scuffed and worn as if it had seen countless battles. Well it had, this was his lighter from the very start of this long arduous war and was kept by his side since. The hungry wolf made his way over to the building but waited in the wings as a German soldier made his way up and into the broken building.

Months later Milo would not feel the same as he lay helpless in his tattered bed fully exposed, left bare and raw by whatever “patron” had just left his room. Things had gone too far, the pain was too much, and love no longer covered up everything Milo felt; the hate, fear, anger, and sorrow. Milo was not much more the flesh and blood, he could be mistaken as a corpse and was treated as one. The young boy wondered why his father allowed this, why the man let his son lose what little innocence he had left to the war, and all Milo could come up with was that he was no longer his dad. It was in these thoughts that he could numb himself to the situation on the outside, he could put up his walls, block out the hands, touches, and words. Milo laid and pondered all day about what he could do to change his situation, or why this happened to him. The man who used to be his father roamed the halls speaking to himself and inviting in soldier after soldier, and with ever “sell” the boy lost another part of his soul.

Around the time The Invasion of Normandy happened Milo and his father where ghost to the world. Jean bore a heavy resemblance to a drug addict living on the street, always dirty with a spiteful look in his eyes. He felt that France owed him something, that the Germans owed him something, that the war owed him something, and took it all out on Milo. Jean would beat, and starve Milo for days at a time, on top of already selling his son to the German soldiers for liquor. Now his father was a broken man, but Milo was a shadow in the night, he was barely talking, covered in dirt, used, malnourished, and abused. Milo no longer prayed and now just hoped that it would all end soon, either with his death or the death of his father.

When the invasion started, the Germans had begun to retreat but not without “cleaning house.” They went from house to house “cleansing” the streets of the “French filth” (as they called it); shooting, grenades, tear gas, using any all things they had available aside from the cannon fire to rain death. By the time allies reached Angiens, it was 3 days of cannon fire, missile rainfall and mist of smoke made by fire and guns. Their house had been untouched, “a miracle of god" Jean would say, but that miracle soon came to an end. Milo would often hide from his father in his closet upstairs (when he had the strength) and would wait out the onslaught, as his old man thrashed and raved with each shake of the ground and sound of fire.

It was at noon on the last day of the siege on their city (of course ending in the Allies victory) and as they retreated the Germans began to kill any civilians left in the town. They rained hell on the little city in those a last few hours and for the first time in a year Milo prayed, he prayed that he would live, that he wanted to live and move on with his life, but his prayer fell upon the ears of the wrong god. There was a moment of silence before the last mortar shot from the Germans could be heard being shot across the city. It whizzed through the air and as it got closer and closer, Milo began to sweat with fear, he knew that it would hit his house, it was as if the missile had his name on it and could seek out what was left of his light. It landed directly on his house and split the brick and wood home in half utterly destroying it. The entire back half of the house was gone, the kitchen destroyed, only a weak staircase left attached to the wall, and a nice view of the destroyed city behind them. Upstairs all the rooms except for Milo’s (which is closest to the stairs) were either destroyed or inaccessible. Milo would get bruised and cut up in his hiding spot from being thrashed around, the scraps of clothing he wore, now stained lightly in fresh blood.

It was silent enough to hear a pin drop, and Milo waited and waited, until the sound of boots crunching against the debris was heard in the distance getting closer and closer. Milo could hear the sound of combat boots, the clanking of dog tags and other metal items touching against each other. He was happy that it was someone here to save him, so he waited for his salvation in the tiny closet.

The lighter snapped shut as Desmond made his way silently into the house. The floorboards were old and the varnish had been eaten away from years of wear. With every step there was an audible creak from any pressure applied. Luckily for Desmond, he was the perfect assassin even in the daytime, his steps were light and nimble. His vision was met with the chalk of blasted concrete on the walls, but also layered with something else. Red mist. Someone had been the unfortunate recipient of the last mortar strike by the last of the fleeting German soldiers. The smell was putrid, burnt flesh and hair were among the worst smells that could capacitate the heightened senses of a vampire. Specks of what he could only presume to be flesh and bone, were scattered around the room like Christmas ornaments. The holiday cheer was devoid of the current scene, regardless Desmond decided to ignore whatever had occurred in this part of the house and focus on the sound resonating from the top of the intact stairs. He moved forward before he stepped in a large pile of mush that felt like a vat of mud under his shoes.

With a horrid look of discuss and the squishing of whatever matter was underneath his feet, he moved his foot back. Under his shoe was brain matter lined with a parchment of flesh and the beginning of a furrowed eyebrow. Much like dog shit, Desmond scraped the remains of whatever ‘it’ was on the neighboring cabinet. Looking both up and down to make sure he didn’t step in any more ghastly mystery stew, Desmond danced around the floor like an agile cat never missing a beat. The stairs were perfectly clear of any remains and human poultry. With each step the sound became more distinct, more alive, the howling of an SS officer cackling while the hysteria bled deeply out of whomever was suffering at their hands became clear to Desmond. The fresh hint of iron tinged his nose, the smell that never seemed to get old made his skin crawl in anticipation. Goosebumps lined his skin as his eyes clouded into a jet black while his fangs unsheathed themselves.

The spiral staircase ran out of steps as Desmond made his grand entrance into the room, except there was no warm reception for the vampire who made no noise. The death squadron officer had his bayonet deep within the intestinal tract of what seemed to be a scared little boy, pathetic. With no hint of hesitation Desmond moved in behind the unsuspecting German and grabbed his face and shoulder as he ripped open his throat in a rush of barbarism. The soldier in disarray tried to react but it was no use, the venom of Desmond's will poured into him rendering him useless. His eyes rolled back before his body went limp, thus dropping his Gewehr 43 with the bayonet still attached. With one violent gurgled roar, Desmond ripped that section of the soldier’s throat out while he pushed the body away. The body hit the floor with a thunderous thud while Desmond spit the chunk of flesh out in the opposite direction, “I hope you taste better boy.”

Milo listened as his savior got closer, he waited as weight was put on his home’s steps and they screamed in protest. When Milo could hear the soldier looking around his room, the boy smiled and used what little strength he had to push the door open. Before him stood the devil in a wehrmacht uniform, and like the devil a cruel smile dawned on his face. The German soldier wasted no time and charged at Milo with his Gewehr 43. They tangled together, if you call Milo’s weak attempt at stopping the bayonet from being plunged into his gut any form of resistance. Milo was in such a weak state that when he grabbed the weapon and tried to stop it, he ended up just guiding it to his stomach and helping the German “purge” him. As the man impaled him, Milo looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a crazy bloodlust and man lost in madness. In those moments Milo felt no despair just sweet release, he was glad things were ending and dying slowly would suit him just fine, as long as the pain ended.

In a blink of an eye the German’s neck was ripped out by another man, Milo gasped as he saw the fangs, felt the blood, and saw the look in his black eyes. The second soldier had an air around him that screamed power and a look in his eyes that demanded fear. “I hope you taste better boy.” The man said, and Milo could only nod in his death filled haze. His life was quickly slipping away, as if the mere presence of this man scared it away, and he gripped at the weapon in his gut and slowly pulled it out with a pain filled grunt. Milo then registered that his slow and peaceful death would not happen and this man was going to cause him for pain, this thought caused his fear to return. Milo did not want a painful death, he wanted to die differently from how he was living, but the “man” in front of him threatened his last request.

”Plea-” Milo tried to say before breaking down in a coughing fit. His vision got blurry and when he looked up at the man, Milo saw something flicker in through the man’s eyes. He couldn't tell what it was, and was in no state to try to decipher what that man was feeling, he just wanted to die. The man moved faster than Milo could track and grabbed the boy by the neck, then dragged him out the room and down the stairs, making sure to cause as much pain on the way down.

When they reached the bottom the man, the monster, threw Milo in the remains of his father. “Say hello to what’s left of your family.” The man said with a sinister chuckle as Milo struggled to pick himself up and get away. As he struggled, the man grew impatient and used his foot to keep Milo’s head face down in his father’s brains. Milo knew it was his dad because of a lone eye he saw resting in what looked like a piece of the man’s head, this caused what tear’s he had left to come crawling down his face. “Do you want to live? Or do you want to end up like this pile of shit here?” The man sneered, and with each question his foot applies more pressure to the boy’s head, causing him to sink further into the brain matter until his head began throb. As the pain grew, Milo weakly thrashed around and gripped at the bloody floor. He wanted to die, but this man was making him fear a death, this man made him fear dying in such pain.

“Answer me boy, or I’ll crush you like the insignificant bug you are.” The man said, and applied a little more force, he couldn’t stand weakness. In his desperation for the pain to stop, Milo started to shake his head slowly under the man’s boot. He would do anything to make the pain stop, and once his answer was accepted it did. The boot gone, pressed disappeared, instantly Milo was thrown against the messy wall, his whole front side was covered in blood and bodily matter. The pain in his gut grew and his eyesight was fading to black. The man quickly slit his wrist “Ah...no you don’t. Your life belongs to me now Enoch. Drink!” The man said, and forced Milo to drink his blood. The moment the crimson liquid touched his tongue, Milo gained a new found strength and began to drink. Taking large gulps until the wrist was ripped away from him, this made Milo whimper in hunger and he stood up against the wall and stared at the man in front of him with clear eyes. The only thing on his mind, in his heart, and driving his body was hunger. He was hungry for this man’s blood, and in that moment Milo would do anything to get it. He began to walk/stumble towards the man whispering “M-more”, over and over. His newfound hunger was driving him crazy and caused him to lunge at the man.

The thirst the boy had was quite endearing, it was unlike Desmond’s first time. The fear, the rage, the naivety to the situation at hand. Desmond wasn’t in his natural mind, but so existed the dark passenger to take over when Desmond was too weak to succumb to the flaws of flesh. While he hadn’t noted it, Desmond was acting exactly as his maker did to him. If he could only look himself in the mirror now, how disgusted would he be? Would the image of Abel come rushing into his mind and manifest itself behind him in the mirror? The cold touch of his proud maker resting on his shoulders as Abel’s smile of contempt and arrogance congealed into this final moment. The student became the teacher, Abel had won. Desmond without skipping a beat, pirouetted around the lustful fletching and cusped his hand behind the boys head, using his energy against him. His face would be thrusted head first into the concrete wall in front of him. Smearing the boy’s face in the dried blood of his father before pulling him back by his hair. With a quick thrust the boy’s body collapsed to the floor, Desmond’s hands dove into his open stomach, grinding his hands along his intestinal cavities.

Enoch would jolt up by involuntary action, one of the reactions Desmond had come to learn by investigating human anatomy through the years. The look of his new son instantly burned the memory of his own brother back into his mind. They both shared the same fate and destined look of torture in their eyes when Vampires had come onto the scene looking for their next meal. Breaking his drunken rage, Desmond felt his humanity trickle down his spine. The boy was slipping off the edge of mortality and about to meet the cold unforgiving afterlife that was once robbed from Desmond. With the boy on the scales of fate, Desmond acted quickly to keep the boy alive. Now that he was unconscious it would be easier to work on him. Desmond had run off in search of the bodies of the medical German Soldiers he had feasted on just before entering the house. Doing his best work with a shorthand of supplies and utensils, the crazed doctor slowly put the boy back together piece by piece. The second feeding of vampire blood also helped to start the full conversion into the life of the night. The regenerative properties would grow from a budding seed into a blossoming fruit in due time, unfortunately for Enoch, his scars would remain forever.

Desmond stumbled to his feet admiring his shoddy work while hoping to atone for his sins regarding his brother. A crumpled cigarette met his lips as he attempted to flick his lighter one last time, except there was no flame. Was it a sign of what his life would come to? Desmond kept the cigarette in his mouth, but tossed the lighter to the floor. Enoch would never have the burden of having Desmond ruin his life, as if he hadn’t already.

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“I am a Vampire, and that is the Truth”
-Christopher Pike

Milo woke the next day covered by a thick tarp that blocked out the light. His initial thought that the he was dead, and this was its truth: a silent darkness. But when Milo tuned into the sounds of insects buzzing, and the rancid smell of death infiltrating his nostrils, he knew that death was not lucky enough to find him, and all that happened yesterday was real. That means he should be a creature now, no longer human and a living offence to god. But Milo did not care, god did nothing to save him from this war, god sat and watched as "he" ruined his life. It was yet another time in his life that the man killed everything he loved in life. So he sat there for hours until the heat of the sun faded away, Milo listened to steps of soldiers and survivors alike, he listened to the wails of pain and the cries of joy. The joy of surviving the war and getting out of the Nazi created hell was not shared by everyone, Milo was hurt, he was reduced to nothing and left raw the only comfort were the rags that hung off his now lean muscles.

When night finally fell, Milo was startled by the tarp being ripped away and Mathias being the culprit for disturbing his moment of ignorant bliss. The older vampire smiled at Milo, as a father would his long lost son. Mathias had been watching his lost child turn this poor boy into a creature of the night. Even after his failed rebirth, Jack still came through from time to time and Mathias would miss none of it, he just watched from a higher perch this time around. But the turning of this boy was not Jack, it had nothing to do with his great child, this was all that abomination Desmond's fault. Mathias had been faced with a choice all day: put the boy out of his misery, or make him into something more. Mathias made his decision before he even noticed and pulled off the tarp separating him from his new child.

"It is alright child, I am here to help. Now come on lets go get you some food." Mathias said with a warm smile, but a stern look in his eyes that would not be questioned. He would not let his new "specimen" get away like Jack had, no, Mathias would plant the seeds of his legacy and watch them bloom.

Milo shuddered as a cold hand, wrapped it self around his neck. He was petrified as that dominating look pierced his soul and forced him into submission. Milo nodded and stood up on shaky legs like a new born calf. He followed the smiling on old man throughout the ruined city. Bodies littered the french town, some burnt, some stained with dried blood, some looked fresh, maybe even slightly breathing those last breaths. All the buildings where littered with bullet holes, if they were not ripped in half and left to pieces. The city of Angiens was decimated and one of the first it by the invasion, the few hundreds of citizens left were put into a "resuscitation camp" which was really a cesspool of French natives that the Americans did not know where to put. When Milo and Mathias arrived at the camp, the young boys senses were on a whole new level. He could feel everything, and it was overloading his very being, he could only stand there at the entrance as the smells filled his nose, and vibrations crawled on his, and sounds bounced in and out of his ears. Mathias put a soothing hand on his shoulder and for the second time today scared the boy.

"Calm down boy, it is only me, now you can have your fill. Just make sure to clean up your mess after." Mathias said with a smile, then urged him forward towards young girl nearby. Mathias wold then give him his first feeding experience, he would show the boy (to the best of his abilities) how to deliver true death, and began molding the child. "Me d-drink." Milo said with his thick french accent. This caused Mathias to smile and as Milo got his first taste, and it was a sight to behold. The child feeding was something only second to Jack's killings, the single drop of blood falling from his lips and another cascading down the side of his mouth onto his white skin. Mathias was entranced for the second time in his life and simply watched as his new "son" took the first steps to becoming a vampire.

Milo on the other hand was lost on cloud nine, the warm blood cascading down his throat filling him with warmth took away the pain he felt and momentary changed his perception on life. Milo would drain the young helpless girl dry and then proceed to ask for "More" Milo half moaned in pleasure and he got more, the whole camp to be exact. He proceeded to kill all 250 in a blood daze, snapping necks, drain men women and children alike until there were only corpses left. Milo would enter into his blood drunk haze for the next years with Mathias, the aging elder would watch with fascination as hi new pet would give him the show of a life time and kill to his hearts content.

From then on, Milo was now the adopted son of Elder Mathias Burradock, the man was not cruel just firm, he was not nice just warm, he did not snip, bite, or cut off Milo, he just explained why the boy was doing it wrong. They developed a twisted master servant relationship that had a mixture of father and son components. Milo would learn everything his new master had to teach him, while fetching blood for the fangless elder. The years that followed reminded him of the time with his grandfather, a happy time, they visited most war scenes form present and past, went to places no man could and that only one as old as Mathias would know about. Mathias and Milo would become kindred beings and liked how they lived.

In the year 2000, Milo and his master (whose name he never learned after all these years, Mathias simply told him to call him "master" or "M") went to the US for the first time and found his brother. His brother was a old man now with kids of his own, and his children had children, they all lived in California happily. It was on Thanksgiving of that year, as he watch his brothers "village" laugh and share good times over a table full of food that he swore to make sure none of them became vampires, and if they did he could kill them himself. This scene snapped out of the blood furry he was stuck in, and caused him to cry in horror at what he had done for all those years at the behest of yet another "father"in his life. Milo's light could be seen in his eyes again, and it shinned with sadness at the lives he had taken and the pain he caused.

After seeing his family, Milo struck out on his own and left Mathias in Los Angeles, leaving the elder for a different life. He travel all throughout the US looking for something but he could pinpoint what exactly. It was during these years of wander that he would compel his way into people's families and complete high school over and over again, getting hooked on the life of youth and the present, instead of living in the past. Milo was living in New York City 2 year ago from the present time, when he received a letter form his master telling him to come to Salem, Massachusetts for an important matter and left him an address. Milo had not heard form him for 15 years so he quickly left in the night and arrived a day later in the town, the first thing that hit his senses was the presence of "others." Milo had met his fair share of wolves, witches, and hunters, he learned to deal with each of them in his own way. This city as filled with them, and it felt as if their presence lived in the land. When he went to house that was on the letter, Milo found nothing inside but coffin a st of keys and a letter baring the seal of his second father. Mathias had left specific directions for Milo to follow and given him his freedom upon completing his last order. At the end of the directions he signed with his name and told Milo he was honored to be his father. Milo buried a father for the third time in his life that day and decided to not leave Salem, instead he stayed and joined the local coven, living in his old masters house.

| {Extra} |

TBA

The Queens Treasure Trove

Date

Character Theme - Spectrum

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【Full Name】
Date Watari

【Nickname/Alias】
Young Blade

【Gender】
Male

【Age】
18

【Age Appearance】
17

【Sexuality】
Bisexual?

【Village】
Konohagakure

【Birthplace】
Konohagakure

【Alignment/Affiliation/Organization】
Konohagakure

【Clan/Bloodline】
Watari

【Rank】
Chunin

【Chakra Nature】
Raiton
Suiton
Ranton

【Appearance/Wardrobe】
As seen above. His hair is darker though, and his eyes are the same piercing white, a trait of his family and how most recognize him.

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【Personality】
Date is complicated at best and takes some getting used to at first but gorws on you like bad birthmark, you may not like him at first but you learn to appreciate his differences int he end. His own history and situation makes he see the bright side to most situations and people too (even if there isn't one). He will give you the shit off his back (if he has one on) and treat you like you are his family, keeping the lives of those around him safe is what drives him to become stronger. During missions he will what is required of him and taking orders is not problem, and he does so to the best of his abilities.

But that does not mean he is a push over, Date can be a little shit at times and no matter how much you appreciate his kindness and care, he will always add sarcasm to spice things up. He can be abrasive but that is only to see if people are "real" enough to be his friends and not just some fake attitude you might wear to get through a mission. He loves to make bonds and form friendships with others, and does his by working his way from the darker sides of people and into their good graces. Date is that asshole in the group who you get mad at because you want to not like him but he is nice at the same time.
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【History】
The Watari clan hails from the Land of Iron and Konohagakure. Before the second war the Watari clan were proud samurai from the Land of Iron, who were known for being able to make powerful blades that could work in tangent with different chakra types that improved over all function, control and power. They did this by mixing ancestral forging techniques with different combinations of metals and mineral. People would pay top dollar to get Watari Steel; "Spring Steel", "Moon Steel", "Rising Dawn", just a few of the different Steels made by the Watari clan. Every head of the clan must introduce a new steel before he is replaced by an heir, or otherwise be know as a failure.

During the second war the Watari clan were nearly wiped out in the battles and choose self preservation, leaving the land of Iron and seeking out the Konohagakure to pick up ninjutsu and strengthen their abilities while holding fast to their traditions. The Konohagakure accepted the now small clan and when the treaty between the two was signed it was stated that "the Watari Clan will uses the fires of Konohagakure to make the best weapons the world has ever seen." Ever since the end of the war, the Watari clan has been in the Land of Fire and proud members of the Konohagakure, making not only swords but applying their techniques to make new weapons for any who can afford it.

Date was born 18 years ago from the current date and his father (Suemori Watari) is the head of the Watari clan, and the man who introduced the idea of making more than just swords with their steel and thus changing everything the Watari Clan stands for. Date grew up with the sword, his every waking moment was involved with weapons, his families steel, and katanas. His father would often call him a "sharp child", and out of all his siblings he was his dads favorite. Date has 3 other siblings and although he is the youngest, he was the only one to have enough talent to become a ninja. Taking the path o the sword as a ninja was not easy and Date's mentor commended him for choosing this route. As a genin he choose to forgo learning any hard core ninjutsu and focused on his kenjutsu wanting to perfect the art and make himself a better swords man. His mentor respected that about him and began to work with his father to help improve him over all.

To commemorate Date becoming a chunin, his father allowed him to make his first sword that he would use in combat. Date made his "Spring Steel" blade and named it Howaitosupāku. Date's creation, compared to other blades made by his family in this generation, was not the best but his father always told him it was a good start and he would only get better. Now Date is the ninja of the family and aside from his father, he is the only liaison to his clan (officially) to the village. He lives by his blade and only hopes to help those in need while making a little mischief along the way. When he began his more advanced training as a chunin, his mentor taught him Ranton, and was the first man to show Date that you can blend ninjutsu with kenjutsu and still be considered a good swords man. Date is still the same kid who breathed, ate, and slept his families traditions and weapons, especially their swords. But now he is becoming his own man and doing things his own way, many can see the storm brewing and smile because they know he will do great things.

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【Equipment/Weapons/Items】

Name of Weapon or Item: Howaitosupāku (White Spark)
Description: A Chakra Blade in the form of a katana, it is made with a special hybrid formula only known to his clan that is called "Spring Steel" and allows the sword to withstand the high temperatures of Ranton. Everything on the blade but the tsuba and the steel is white, the steel takes a bronze color, and most who see it assume its copper. It is average length, perfect for his arms and when he travels it is holstered on his back but during combat it is either at his side or in his left or right hand (because he is ambidextrous and can draw from either. It is the focus of his fighting style and in a majority of his techniques.
Appearance:

White Spark

Name of Weapon or Item:
Konoha Chakra Blade
Description:
Simple Chakra Blades that, Date uses to flow lighting chakra through for combat. He usually carries four of them at one time.
Appearance:

Hider

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【Noteworthy Traits】
Average Chakra Pool
Excellent Chakra Control
Talented Kenjutsu
Initiate Iaijutsu
Swift Blade
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【Kekkei Genkai】

Name of Kekkei Genkai:
Ranton (Storm Release)
Clan:
N/A
Rank
N/A
Description:
See Link above.
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Jutsu:

Canon Jutsu

Academy Jutsu
Samurai Sabre Technique
Flash
Iaidō
Yōjinbō
Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu
Suiton: Suidan no Jutsu
Water Clone Technique
Raikyū
Raiton: "Jinraisen"
Raisō: Ikazuchi no Utage
Ranton: Reizā Sākasu
Ranton: Raiunkūha

Custom Jutsu

Name of Technique: Nimbus Cloud
Type of Jutsu: Ninjutsu, Supplementary
Rank: C
Range: Self
Nature Type:
Ranton
Description: Date uses Storm Release to create a more dense cloud that is only big enough for him to stand on. He uses it to travel long distances. Its not much of a offensive jutsu and was modeled after Wukong's Nimbus cloud. The cloud looks like dark grey and white cotton candy and when he uses it he only goes a foot off the ground.

Name of Technique: Light Blade
Type of Jutsu: Offensive Enhancement Kenjutsu
Rank: B
Range:Melee
Nature Type: Ranton
Description: Date uses Storm Release to cloak Howaitosupāku in chakra similar to Laser Circus but more focused. It is similar to Vacuum Blade, but instead of using wind chakra he uses storm chakra to increase the damage and sharpness of his blade. This blade is able to let off slashes of storm chakra similar to that of the Flash technique. This technique was modeled after the Samurai Sabre Technique but with greater focus and control. The blade will need 2 post to cool down, or he can do it in one post by leaving Howaitosupāku in cold water.

Name of Technique: Light Whips
Type of Jutsu: Shurikenjutsu
Rank: B
Range: 6 meters
Nature Type: Ranton
Description:Similar to his Laser blade, Date focuses Storm chakra into his shorter chakra blades, but instead of giving it a more fine point he takes advantage of the fluidity. He uses the chakra blades as a focus and makes to whips made of pure electricity, but they flow like whips. Each whip is (if he uses two at a time) is about 9ft long, and one is about 12ft long. These whips are as dangerous as normal whips. With enough force they can break skin and cause burns, but they lack the raw power and sharpness of the light blades. With such a high intensity of focused storm chakra, Date is not able to keep the flow for long and after 3 post the chakra blades will melt. The blade will need at least 2 post to cool down.

Name of Technique: Light Iaijutsu
Type of Jutsu: Kenjutsu/Ninjutsu
Rank: A
Range: Melee
Nature Type: Ranton
Description: Date mixes the Iaidō techniques with his Light Blade technique to increase the precision and speed. This technique requires more focus and chakra. But he essentially can buff any Iaidō technique with this chakra increasing its damage and sharpness. After using a Light Iaijutsu technique he has to wait 2 post before doing another.

Name of Technique: Light's Dance
Type of Jutsu: Iaijutsu/Ninjutsu
Rank: B
Range: Melee-4 meters
Nature Type: Ranton
Description: Using the standard Iaidō draw method, Date uses his Light Iaijutsu to empower the Yōjinbō technique. Although instead of a dash, Date heavily layers his blade with Ranton and is able to fire off waves of storm that contain the force, speed, and power that the normal technique would contain. This turns the Yōjinbō technique into an empowered and ranged Flash. He can only let off three waves every time he uses this technique and all three must be in the same post, he also has to wait one post before using it again.

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Naruto: Revival

Konohagakure Shinobi | Stormy Chūnin | Young Blade

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TIME: Present Day - Afternoon | Location: Sunagakure - Outskirts | Interacting With: Sakana Uragiri@Odin, Shizuka Ichimi@Syn, Kamui Uzumaki@Spanner, Chis "Black Dragon" @BladeX

Date chuckled at Sakana's response, at least he had a sense of humor right, no point in being shitty about an already shitty situation. Date hen listened and watched as he began to take on the worm, the animal he summoned was cool and caught Date's attention for a moment but his technique was even more of a sight. Date had a habit of admiring other techniques and fighting styles, not to compare just to help him set a goal to reach. Date understood his orders and stepped a few feet away Sakana, making note of the areas he aimed for with his technique and re-strapped his sword on his back so he could control this jutsu better. Date always worried when he used this technique, make to many beans, you waste chakra and its harder to control,don't make enough and it does not have the added effect.

Date quickly formed the 5 hand seals necessary then faced his open palms towards the creature. "Ranton: Reizā Sākasu!" A bright halo formed in front his hands and then it encircles his hands, growing much larger and moving further out. Seconds later the halo was a circle bigger then Date's head and six beams of energy shot out towards the creature. 6 was a good number, good amount of chakra used and allowed him to use great control, Date aimed the beams at the head and mouth as well hoping to do some kind of damage and give the Uzumaki the distraction he needed.

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Location;Washington Square
Interacting With: Madam Laveau@HushedWhispers

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"Dante, Dante, Dante."

As soon as Dante heard his name in that southern drawl he smiled. One of the few women in his life that he still respected had just made an appearance. Madam Laveau was like a mom to him, well she was to everyone in the coven, but he felt special sometimes. She took him in when he needed a place to belong and he was grateful to her and for her. Laveau was a good woman and cared for all those under her, aside from the fact the she recognized his skill with plants/herbs and illusions, and in return we gave her loyalty, watched her back, and made sure those who threatened our "mother" were taken care of. His family, grandmother especially, were not to happy to know about who Dante had enlisted with. Sure his mother and grandmother were witches, but in order to stay neutral they did not practice and Laveau was not their favorite person. Dante respected her and he did not care if he grandmother hated him for not choosing family, in his eyes the only thing family ever did was kill his only happiness in life and force him to come back, force him to see the face of his former life walking around with a new family and kids. Madam Laveau offered him not only family, but a way to deal with the pain and he would be forever grateful to her.

Dante chuckled at the interaction going on in front of him, the lady really did not want to mess with his madam, things never ended well for people who did. The common thing about voodoo witches is people underestimate them, most think that because we can't instantly light things on fire, or fly a knife across the room then we mus be weaker. But Dante always thought about it like this, if you wanted to scar some one would you prefer a large scar that may hurt in the moment but would fade away over time, or would you prefer a small on that grew, in not only pain but size, and never went away. He liked what he was and did not want to hide, no Dante wanted to practice and be of use to his people.

After Madam Laveau left he turned to the stunned lady with a smirk, that knowing smirk that old her that she needs to just leave and she did. He waited a bit more before going to her booth, talking to a few men and women about the gardens, getting some donations and selling some medicines then when his coworker showed up and he was relieved of duty and could now go do what he wanted. Dante grabbed his jacket and tuned to Sally, she was a pretty brunette who usually worked these things with him.

"Going over to the witch doctors? Make sure they don't put any hexes on you and I am still waiting on my doll Dante, I really want one they are so cute." She said with a humorous tone and then grew serious about "her" doll. She did not know about the supernatural but she did know Dante and Laveau were friends and he frequented her establishment. Sally has been asking for a voodoo doll for a while know Dante was an idiot and told her he would get her one, but he kept putting it off.

"Ha, I am sure you would know if they put a hex on me, but I'll be sure to watch my back, and I told you I was work on the doll thing. Oh crap! Look at the time gotta go, see you Sally." Dante said all this causally without looking at her as he got his coat on and grabbed his phone, then looked as non-existent watch and made a quick escape towards Laveau's booth. He looked around as he walked through the crowd and saw the different booths and stands from the local stores and some bigger companies. The night was still young but it looked to be going well, but there was still that feeling of dread nagging at the back of his mind, kind of telling him not to get his hopes up.

When he arrived at the booth he smiled and waved to everyone. Some responded others worked, then he turned to Madam Laveau and smiled. "Sorry about the lateness, had to do that for work." He said as he ran a hand through his hair. Dante honestly felt bad, he wanted to just say "fuck work" but he needed the job so he could continue to live on his own, plus his job at the gardens gave the entire coven the best access to any herbs they needed and when ever they needed, Dante usually left his work keys with Madam Laveau when he got off or on his days off anyways. "I do have to ask you a question; is something off in the air to you? Maybe I am just weird, but I fell like someone is hanging a cloud over my head." He said with a worried smile and then raked is hair again. Dante had to not be the only one not feeling it, and she was sure to have the answer. Dante awaited her answer while helping set things up at Madam Laveau's booth.

Mordhaben's Institute for Aspiring Mages [Gaslamp Fantasy] [Completely Dead]

Before Jhin could respond to Lucannus, a commotion was heard in the form of sounds behind the administration build door. The entrance of their administrator signaled the start of the ceremony. Jhin gave the man his undivided attention and took in ever word he said. He released a slight gasp and watched the light bounce off the different mirrors and then the images played. Jhin was astounded, he had never seen anything like this, the images came out looking like memories he would store in his mind. Jhin being who he was, had questions, but most of all if he could create or achieve something this great by attaining the knowledge this school had to offer he was more than willing to attend. Jhin was sure his answers about life and who he was could be answered here, he longed to to learn and wanted nothing more than to soak up as much as he could while he was attending.

When the images stopped he was initially confused as to what he saw but the administers explanation was sufficient enough to calm some of the storm that was raging in his mind. Jhin hated when it got like this, questions left unanswered, people not willing to do their part and helping him to stop asking questions. This is what troubled his mind as they went on the tour of the facilities, Jhin's secondary eyes where the only pair focused on the sights and areas while he was looking at his fidgeting hands. He was thinking about what he wanted out of life, his mother made things simple out in the wild; survive. But this was not the cold and harsh wilds of the north, and here the opportunities were more plentiful, Jhin just had to decide which ones he would take.

---

When they entered the cafeteria, the smells of good food started his stomach to rumble and his pedipalps stood to attention acting as extra feelers for his senses and leading him towards the Flynenhael section northeast. He knew they should have the cheese and cricket special. It was something normal to what most would call the "sitcks", what many don't know that crickets were a good source of protein and after you fried them (with a little seasoning) you poor hot cheese and bacon bits all over it. Jhin likes his barley fried, he wanted the crickets to still be kicking so he could taste their fear, fear always makes the meat taste better.

He walked up to a kitchen stall behind some other humans who he assumed where from his home, and began to stack his tray with fruit and meat. Then he saw them, the gold coated creatures in all their glory waiting to be eaten. When he got to that end, some where still living while other crickets had died and now sat as cheese encased statues. The were surprisingly a lot left, but that just meant more for Jhin, and it only pushed him to fill the space left on his plate with them. He found on of the relatively empty tables after and sat down, when he looked at his cricket meal a feel of nostalgia came over him, and he started to remember the first time his father made him this meal and how happy he was. Jhin sighed at this and could only wonder what brought on his longing for familiarity, this caused him to eat slow and savor each bite.

Dark matter - Mages in Space

interested

[HIGH CASUAL] Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts

Location; Maganti Residence-->Washington Square
Interacting With; No one at the moment

---

Dante stretched and yawn lazily behind the booth as people passed by, some glanced at his wares while others did not pay him the slightest thought. Today was the glorious Founder's Day, a day meant for celebration, a day that was as famous as most holidays in this town. It was one of the rare times everyone sets aside their differences and comes together to celebrate the found fathers of the town, and its creation in general. He woke up this morning feeling alright, which was his usual, not good or bad just bland. Mornings was the only time of day the Dante could escape the pains of the past and seemingly brush his feelings under the rug, but as he brushed his teeth showered and got dressed it seemed that each part of the daily routine brought back flashes how things used to be. He got a call from his work yesterday saying he needed to be in early today so that he get a good spot to set the booth up and have to struggle as much as they did last year.

Getting the job at the gardens was a dream, he gets to work with plants all day and to is totally worth having to do these kinds of events. Dante is the new guy and has been for the past few years so he was in charge of dealing with he different festivals and group activities around the town were the botanical gardens could improve its image. The gardens don't just host flowers, it also doubles as a herb and flower shop. The place cells everything form Aloe Vera to Valerian Root (or they at least try too), and are one of the best places around the city to get some organic herbs, spices too, pregnant women love to come and get their milk thistle fresh from the gardens and at events like founders day when Dante sells everything discounted the ladies will be swarming in soon.

Today there are many different kinds of "people" in the crowds, he could feel the werewolves, vampires, and other witches out their in the crowd and only hoped that the night ended well. He honestly had no issues with the other races, well maybe the witches, but he was trying to put that behind him and move on to green pastures. He comes to these events with a "don't start none, won't be none" kind of attitude, Dante can only hope that a drunk wolf or hunter doesn't get up in someone else's face and then we have a disaster on our hands. But something did trouble him, a nagging feeling that caused him to shiver, it made him feel uncomfortable and Dante's attention was caught by chuckle coming form right in front of him, then he noticed the slight pain in his lips and cussed under his breath. Most of the women who came to see him had caught him biting his lip and thought it meant something else but its way of thinking.

"Sorry, what can I do for you today?" he said with a brush of his hair and a smile. Dante then tried to distract himself from this feeling if dread by dealing with the woman in front of him, she was obliviously her for him not really interested in jars of spices or pouches of roots. She was human so maybe she knew about the "things" he sold on the side or maybe she was just here to talk to him, only time would tell. But he had a feeling tonight was going to be bad and it caused him to break face for a moment and sigh, Dante could only hope that his madam set her booth up tonight or at least attended this year.

Marvel: Knights of New York

MARVEL: KNIGHTS OF NEW YORK

Elektra

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CHARACTER BIO:

Real Name: Elektra Natchios
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Powers, Abilities, and Gear:

Elektra, even before her rebirth, was a deadly foe. What she lacks in superpowers she makes up for with her training from the Chaste and Hand organizations. Elektra is a master assassin, learning many techniques from both of the aforementioned organizations, aside form that she is proficient with almost all the Okinawan Kobudo weapons. Her token weapon of choice are the Twin Okinawan Sai, and sometimes katanas. Elektra uses a special technique which is know as the Assassin Instinct. Nick Fury can attest to the usage of this eerie mind control in person after her resurrection he conducted scientific experiments on the captured assassin and found strange morphology in her brain that explained her phenomenal reflexes, yet sane rationale. Elektra moves with heightened primal instincts but the more evolved parts of her brain remain intact, preserving her intelligence. In other words, she thinks like a woman and strikes like a cobra.

Elektra is proficient in many martial arts originating from China, Thailand and Japan. While many of them are unstated, Ninjutsu is the most noticeable one. She won trophies in aikido, kendo, karate. Also due to her training as a ninja assassin, she can blend in with the shadows and remain undetected by most humans. Among other things like pressure point location, acrobatics, marksmanship, etc, she earned her title as one of the hands best creations for a reason.

Origin:

Elektra Natchios was born on a Greek island near the Aegean Sea to Hugo Kostas Natchios and his wife Christina Natchios. She grew up with her older brother Orestez Natchios. Elektra's mother was gunned down by enemies of her father while vacationing on a yacht. After her mother's death, Elektra grew up close to her father but was plagued by visions and voices with no known source. She reacted to them through self-harming herself. Her father eventually sent her away to psychotherapy until becoming more stable. As she grew up, her father required that she train in the martial arts where she excelled.

Her father was later appointed Greek ambassador to the United States of America. She attended Columbia University. This is where she first saw Matt Murdock when he was leaping across rooftops. From then on their relationship blossomed into something more exciting and raw, the two were a special pair and each fed into the vices of the other. They lived on the brink, drawn to the edge, and sometimes over. It was Foggy who told Matt Elekta's true identity and after, Matt went to her mansion where he broke in but was stopped by security, Elektra was playing the piano at a party as the guard crashed through the glass ceiling and right onto the piano. Elektra never stopped playing while the guards took aim and fire up at the window where Matt was standing. When Matt gets home and treats his wounds she was there and the two slept together, she leaves later on as Foggy arrived.

On her way home she saw a group of five gangbangers who she overhears them bragging about what they've done to innocent women. She lured them into a dark alley. Then left soon after with torn clothes and those tugs blood on her hands. It was her first time killing, mix that with the high she was getting from Murdock and life in Elektra's world was great.

This all changed when her father was gunned down by assassins. She soon after went to the Mountain of the Chaste to train from them, but she was later dismissed by Stick for bearing too much emotion over the death of her father. Determined to prove herself to her former mentor, she infiltrated the rival organization known as The Hand, wise to her plan the Hand instead tricked Elektra into killing the sensei with whom she had studied under before Stick. Elektra continued to serve the Hand thereafter, becoming corrupted by their ways. That was until she eventually rebelled and fled Japan.

Years after she became a bounty hunter/assassin for any and all who would pay, she met with the hooded vigilante Daredevil. Elektra who later find out the the blind hero was Matt Murdock, and they would go on to team up to fight Bullseye who was losing his mind due to a tumor. Daredevil disapproved of Elektra's chosen profession, but the two still cared deeply for one another. They would tackle not only the lost villain but also The Hand as they tried to hunt down Stick.

Soon after Kingpin, the most powerful figure in East Coast organized crime, hired Elektra as his chief assassin. She was sent to kill Ben Urich and came into conflict with Matt, who stopped her and thwarted the Kingpin's plans. In retaliation, Kingpin ordered her to kill Matt's best friend and law partner, Foggy Nelson. When Foggy recognized her, Elektra realized she could not carry out the contract and spared his life.

Her failure was the perfect opportunity for Bullseye to reclaim his spot as Kinpin's chief assassin. So Bullseye impaled Elektra on her own sai, and she died in Matt's arms. Unwilling to part with one of its most talented operatives, the Hand attempted to resurrect Elektra and place her fully under their control through a magic ritual. Stone, a member of Stick's order, completed the process, bringing Elektra back to life after Daredevil had purified her spirit through sheer force of will.

Now purged of the Hand's corruption, Elektra left Matt's side, determined to find her own place in the world. Now with her life back in her won hands she set out to New York to find new contracts. The fall of the web slinger has stirred the under world and drawn Elektra back to a city that has caused her so much pain. She has many ghost to face, Matt, Stick, Kingpin, but all she can do for now is pick up her next mission and start to build herself from there.

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STORY INFO:

High Concept:

In the case of Elektra, I wanted to tell the story of her struggle to finding a spot in the world. Before her second rebirth (via the Hand), she was lost and lacked any real direction. I wanted to focus on this part of her life because it was a major building period for her and sort of acted as a mini reboot to her entire character. Lets not forget that she is a killer, a cold blooded assassin for hire that has worked with some of the biggest and baddest. I want to show a raw and vulnerable woman with the skills to kill those who harmed her.

Motivation and Conflict:

Elektra came back to New York to settle debts that where long overdue. Aside from that she is lost, she needs to find some sort of purpose or drive to keep her going. With all the commotion going on it was the perfect opportunity to slip back in undetected and start to forge a path that she could be proud to walk down. She has no friends or family to lean on, her mentors have shunned her and The Hand is on her heels, hiding under all the commotion while trying to fix herself in the process is her driving force behind her character.

Notes: TBD

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PLAYER INFO:

Player Name:Queen (or Tay)
Preferred Contact Method: Discord, or PM
Why This Character?: I choose Elektra because she is one of the few characters to die come back to life and reinvent herself every time. Aside form the fact she is one of my favorite Hell's Kitchen characters, she has always been well rounded to me and brings a certain spice to any of the Marvel rps I have ever used her in.
What Can You Bring to the RPG?: Aside from my experience being a roleplayer (not just on guild but other sites as well), I am a avid Marvel (and DC) fan and literally live the in comics and movies. I am a nice guy, awkwardly funny and once you get to know me, most say I am pretty chill.